Words Crossed
by glitterburn
Summary: Van Helsing/Carl. First impressions always count.


**Words Crossed**

It all began with a crossword, or word-cross, as they were known back then. In those days they were nowhere near as popular as they are today, of course; and as a result it took no small measure of effort on my part to discover their whereabouts. English periodicals were very good, although due to the vagaries of transport then, I occasionally received the edition with the answers published a week before the crossword itself came into my hands. Damned annoying.

The day I met him, I was dismally contemplating the little boxed grid of black and white squares, depressed in the knowledge that I knew every single one of the answers already. A conundrum isn't quite so compelling when the solution is plain to see; but at the same time, it seemed an awful waste to leave the crossword empty and unfulfilled. I really was at my wits' end as to what to do about it.

I hasten to add that my life was not simply restricted to pondering upon crossword puzzles. Usually it was much more complex, and involved terribly secretive and mysterious things that – probably - only God can understand. In my finite wisdom I was fortunate enough to play some small part in the Heavenly scheme: but that day, my part was occupied with the crossword. Or rather, what I was going to do with the crossword, since I already knew the answers.

I was hunched over my desk, the periodical open at the correct page and the surface around me covered in pencil-shavings. I like my pencils to be very sharp, preferably a 3B. They don't smudge if they're very sharp, you see. Anyway, I was shading in the corner of one of the empty white boxes when a shadow fell across the desk, and Cardinal Jinette called my name in a tone that suggested that he wanted something from me.

I've found over the years that cardinals always want something from me. Some have more luck than others. I might be a mendicant, but that doesn't mean that I'm cheap.

"What do you want?" I asked, looking up from the crossword. Cardinal Jinette shrank backwards as I appeared to brandish the sharpened pencil beneath his nose. It was entirely accidental, of course, so I hastily put down the pencil and assumed my meekest expression.

"Yes. Very good." Cardinal Jinette seemed not to be reassured, and instead thrust forwards a veritable hulk of a human being into my line of vision. "Carl, I wish you to meet Gabriel Van Helsing. He will be -"

"Van Helsing?" I interrupted, peering up at the stranger. "Are you Swedish, sir? I have just finished reading a rather interesting treatise on the botany of Scandinavia, and would welcome the opportunity to discuss -"

Cardinal Jinette placed his hand on my shoulder and gripped it hard. I had come to understand that this was a signal for me to shut up. I did so in this case, but I continued to examine the man thus brought before me.

He was tall: much taller than me, but then I have been told that I stoop and have round shoulders from the amount of time I spend at my desk. He was almost the tallest man I had ever seen, apart from a Thuggee who had been taken into custody by the Inquisition back in 1862. He was also broad – possibly he'd have made two of me, but it was evenly distributed. His face was not classically handsome, but neither was he ugly. Arresting, I should say: with the kind of looks that one would think to be improved by the addition of an interesting scar.

His hair was too long. I noticed this with a sniff of distaste. My own hair is kept as neat as my job allows and the Order permits. This Van Helsing seemed to be making a statement with his hair, although I wasn't certain what it was: either he was claiming kinship with some kind of bestial creature, or he was trying to hide.

Cardinal Jinette spoke again and roused me from my reverie: "Van Helsing will be aiding us in our quest." He tapped his nose meaningfully.

"Which quest would that be?" I asked.

"The one to rid God's fair earth of the spawn of Satan," Cardinal Jinette said, a little testily, I thought.

"Oh, yes. That quest." I nodded. It's important to be certain of the facts of the matter. Sometimes working for the Vatican could be quite confusing. "So, Mr Van Helsing, what is it that you do, precisely?"

He lifted his shaggy head and stared at me. "I'm an executioner."

"Ah. Define 'execution' for me, would you?"

Van Helsing smiled. It was not a nice sight. "I track, hunt down and slaughter all manner of creatures. Demons, werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters... You name it, I kill it."

"Ah," I said again. "That's interesting. You see, it just so happens that I'm compiling a taxonomy of diabolical creatures, and so your expertise may be just the thing -"

"Carlo!" Cardinal Jinette hissed, and his grip on my shoulder became positively vice-like. He only called me Carlo when he was very upset, so I fell silent and subservient again.

"I want you to work with Gabriel from now on," he said. "He will be doing little jobs for us. Jobs that the Inquisition failed to complete. You will give him your full co-operation."

The magnitude of what I was hearing began to sink in. "Ah," I said, for the third time. It had a very different intonation to it, and I could see Van Helsing's expression change from wary to interested, just at the way I said the word.

"Full co-operation," Cardinal Jinette said again, giving my shoulder a little shake as emphasis. "That includes sharing your latest research and designs."

I didn't like the sound of that. "Even the prototypes?"

"Especially the prototypes." The good cardinal let go of me and bestowed both of us with a faint, but approving, smile. "I shall let you get acquainted. A man must trust his tailor before he wears his suit, is that not so?"

"Yes, indeed," Van Helsing said as he looked at me. "It's important that the two of us… fit."

I scowled. I didn't like the sound of that, either.

When Cardinal Jinette swept away to lurk elsewhere, I gave my attention back to the crossword. Van Helsing came closer and sat on the desk, heedless of the pencil-shavings and wholly oblivious to the freezing stare of irritation I turned on him.

"What're you doing?"

I refused to give him an inch. "What does it look like?"

"'Vagabond'," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

He pointed to the top row of white squares. "That's the answer. One across: 'vagabond'."

I snatched up the pencil again before he decided to fill in the letters for me. "I knew that," I snapped, rather ungraciously. "I know all the answers."

Van Helsing gave me a quizzical look. "Then why don't you do your crossword?"

"Because," I said with a glare, "I already know the answers, and there seems little point in completing a crossword when that is the case!"

"Ah," he said, and I raised the pencil, ready to prod him with it if I suspected that he was making fun of me. His expression was peaceful enough, but the look in his eyes suggested mischief. His next words confirmed it: "Well, Carl, why don't you make up your own crossword to fit the square?"

"That's not the point," I said.

"But it would fill in the blanks. Isn't that what's really bothering you?"

I gazed down at the crossword. I couldn't deny that it would look so much better if all the squares were filled in with neat little letters. I twirled the pencil between my fingers and said, "But if I did that, then surely it would be cheating. It would be like trying to deny the existence of God when I already know that He exists."

Van Helsing shook his head. "Not necessarily. But I didn't come here to discuss the nature of God with you, delightful though such a discussion may be…"

"Surely it would be interesting," I retorted, "since you carry the name of an archangel. Although I must admit that rarely have I met anybody who looked less like an angel than do you, sir."

He smiled, and this time it was far more pleasant. "You don't get out much, do you, Carl?"

"No, but that's beside the point." I tried to close the pages of the periodical, but Van Helsing was sat on them with complete disregard to my wishes. I found myself staring at his thigh, which was clothed in worn leathers and thick, heavy cotton. He smelled of wild animal and incense, and the combination disturbed me.

"Is it true what they say about monks?" he asked then, his voice lazy.

"I wouldn't know," I said, edging my chair away from him. "I'm not a monk. I'm a friar. An entirely different breed, actually."

"Yes. I missed the rise of the mendicants." Van Helsing took advantage of my retreat to lounge further across my desk. He looked me up and down, ostensibly taking note of my robes, but it felt far more personal than that. I dare say I blushed at his scrutiny, and so I busied myself with a small experiment I had set up earlier.

"Friars beg, don't they?" he asked, and this time I knew he was needling me.

"Not this one." I was rather more flustered than I let on, and so when I lit the match to begin my little experiment, the flare of magnesium startled me and I burned my fingers. "Damn it!"

He reached across and seized my hand, examining the blisters. "St Francis taught that you should love all humanity, and the creatures of the earth."

I struggled to break free. "He had not met you."

"And perhaps if he had, then he would declare me to be neither."

I went still, and stared up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I have no past, Carl. I do not know whether I am man or beast, angel or demon. I am like your crossword: somebody out there must know all or part of my history, or perhaps only God knows the truth; but at the moment, what you see is what you get. A lot of blank spaces - some black, some white. A few clues, but I don't know if my answers are right or wrong. So should I leave the crossword empty, or should I fill it with words, and hope that what I decide is correct?"

I swallowed. Sitting there with him holding onto my hand like that made me unaccountably nervous, despite the fact that here in front of me was a living, breathing conundrum. I knew I should relish such a challenge, but in truth it frightened me a little.

"You are not the only one with a blank space in your life," I said eventually. "I never knew my parents. I have not known anything save for my life here. The Vatican took care of me, and cares for me still."

Van Helsing gave me a crooked smile. "Then it seems we are both orphans of God. Do you need your history in order to live?"

I had never thought about it before, and considered the question carefully for a moment before I said, "No. It would be nice to know, but… the Church has made me what I am, and with that I am content." I wriggled my fingers, again looking for an escape. "But what of you? Do you need to know?"

He tightened his grip. "Yes. Otherwise I fear I must live my history over and over again. I have nightmares every night, yet I cannot tell you the substance of them when I wake." He looked at me seriously. "Cardinal Jinette says you are the cleverest man here. If you cannot help me, then I know not who can."

"I only invent things," I said helplessly. "I cannot fix minds."

"An inventive man can heal all manner of ills, if he has the will to do so." For a moment I thought he would kiss my fingers, but then he released me and stood up. "Finish your crossword, Carl."

He left. I sat at my desk and stared at my hand as if I had never seen it before. And then I picked up the pencil and began to fill in the blank spaces of the puzzle with words of my own fancy, until it was complete.

**end**


End file.
